Doctor Funkytown
by The Sneezing Panda
Summary: —Or rather, Doctor Sam Braddock was there to help her through the pesky little plague known as the common cold. Jam, when their relationship was still a baby.


Disclaimer: I do not own Flashpoint or any of its characters.

_A/N: A made a thank-you fic for SYuuri because she makes nice things for me. :)_

_Also, this takes place relatively early into their relationship and I guess it's AU because it was spring/summer when they started dating but let's just go with this._

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Doctor Funkytown

_By The Sneezing Panda_

Jules Callaghan was not at all feeling up to par that Sunday afternoon. What she wanted to do—and had planned to do—was spend the day at Sam Braddock's apartment, making spaghetti and meatballs for her new, cooking-challenged boyfriend, and having sex that was hopefully as hot as their dinner. Instead, she was sitting on her couch, throwing a used Kleenex into the endless conglomeration of tissues that had accumulated in her trash can while watching _Dirty Dancing_, for you see, Jules Callaghan was sick.

Around the time Baby had been put in a corner, Jules began to doze off, her peppermint tea long forgotten on her coffee table. She had gone about fifteen minutes without coughing her lungs up, which had seemed to be a personal record thus far, and the consequential pain in her ribs had finally subsided. Her mouth hung loosely open just a tad since her nasal cavities were inciting a rebellion against her, and she had just drifted off into a light nap when four clear, loud, dull knocks were tapped against her front door.

Jules begrudgingly lifted her eyelids open and turned her head in the direction of the knocks, narrowing her eyes at the _nerve_ of some people. She rested her head against the back of the couch as she weighed her options, leaning towards simply ignoring the knocks when four more rapid knocks followed.

Sighing, Jules stood up, closing her eyes briefly to subdue the sudden dizziness that plagued her as a result. She padded over to the door, turned the locks, and swung it open to reveal none other than Sam Braddock. His eyes were wide and full of questions; his cheeks were rosy as the crisp February wind nipped at his skin. He opened his mouth to speak, but looked momentarily thrown as he decided what to ask first.

He closed his mouth and with what seemed to be mild annoyance and concern, took her bare biceps into his hands and backed her into the house, shutting the door quickly behind him. He dropped a full grocery bag by the door and shed his jacket.

"Jesus, Jules, aren't you freezing?" he enquired incredulously, peering at her pink tank top, and placing the jacket snugly around her shoulders. Before Jules could even formulate a response in her head, Sam was dashing up the stairs, leaving his perplexed girlfriend behind him.

"Hi to you, too," Jules muttered sarcastically, not particularly in the mood to shout it so that he could hear it and further irritate her sore throat. She shrugged the jacket off and walked towards the closet in her foyer. As she was hanging the jacket up, Sam trotted back down the stairs and huffed when he caught sight of her bare arms once again. His arms held a fluffy, brown blanket which she had left messily on her bed and a thick sweater she hadn't worn in a while.

"Jules, you're going to catch hypothermia," he stated as if it were a solid fact rather than an obvious exaggeration and rushed over to her, holding the sweater out. Jules shook her head, but took the sweater in her hand and carried it to the couch. Sam followed closely and waited for Jules to sit down again so he could throw the blanket over her. Jules sighed and watched him walk to the bag which he had left in his hurry to keep her warm.

"Sam, I'm not cold," she countered, shucking the blanket towards the end of the couch. To be honest, it was a bit of a lie; she was a bit chilly, but even the thinnest shirt made her sweat as if she was in a sauna.

Less than thirty seconds later, Sam returned and sat by her side, the bag in his lap. Jules, who had absentmindedly been watching the characters dance to _Time of My Life_, turned to him to see what he had brought.

Instead of opening the bag, Sam ran his hand against her arm and frowned.

"You seem cold. Are you sure you're not cold?" he asked, his voice full of concern. Jules looked him hard in the eyes and shook her head.

"I'm fine," she reassured him. Sam regarded her with a dubious expression on her face, but relented after a few seconds to show her the contents of the bag.

Grabbing two smaller bags from the grocery bag, he explained, "I wasn't sure whether you liked cherry or honey lemon so I got you both. And just in case you didn't like those, I got you mint, which is a pretty safe option."

He let her take the_ Halls Cough Drops_ in her hands as he found the bag containing the mint-flavoured cough drops.

"I also got you tea: green, chamomile, and peppermint," Sam informed her, showing her three boxes full of tea bags. "And in case you ran out, I got you a box of tissues—the soft kind. They have lotion; they're supposed to be good."

Sam looked up from the bag to Jules and was pleasantly surprised to find her grinning. Jules was damn sure she hadn't smiled that hard the entire day, not when Baby danced with Johnny for the first time, not when they made love for the first time, and not even when Johnny stood up to Baby's father.

"Thank you, Sam," she said sincerely, her voice hoarse. She reached down for a bag of _Halls_.

"Cherry," she stated. After Sam raised an eyebrow questioningly, Jules added, "I like cherry."

And with that, she popped a candy into her mouth, relishing in the relief it provided. Jules held the open bag out towards him; Sam looked down at it for a moment, but eventually took one, smiling at Jules.

"You know, I'd kiss you if I wasn't so sick."

Sam's smile grew wider, and despite, her statement, he leaned in to place a short kiss on her temple. Jules scrunched her nose and rested her head on his shoulder. Sam, in turn, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and peered passed her head at the blanket that lay in a clutter.

"You sure you're not cold?" Sam queried again, a light smile on his face, his voice rumbling against her cheek. Jules giggled and rolled her eyes jokingly. She lifted her head from his shoulder and pulled her knees up to her chest. Sam's expression went from teasing to serious in a matter of seconds.

"Are you hungry?" he asked, disentangling himself from Jules and the contents of the grocery bag to stand up and make his way to the kitchen. "I could make you some soup. I mean, it's no spaghetti and meatballs, but it's something."

He stopped midway in his journey to the kitchen when he heard Jules chuckle, a chuckle which turned into a cough. Sam turned around, crossing his arms and trying his very best to look angry at the not-so-subtle insinuation that he was a lousy chef. Jules had finally managed to calm the fit of coughs down, but one glance at the expression on Sam's face made her laugh, fuelling the cycle once again.

"When did you learn how to cook?" Jules managed to enquire somewhat seriously; this was something she was genuinely interested to hear.

Shrugging sheepishly, Sam admitted, "Well, I didn't." Sam walked back over to the bag he had abandoned and pulled out a can of _Campbell's Herbed Chicken with Rice_ soup. "But, I did learn where to buy some quality soup."

And with that, he was off. Jules pursed her lips and decided to follow him into the kitchen. She leaned against the doorway, watching him lay the can on the counter while he rummaged through the drawers. Before he could even open his mouth to ask, Jules informed him that can opener was at the back of the second drawer.

With a lopsided smirk on her face, she told him, "The microwave is that big black box by the fridge. You can't miss it."

Sam looked over his shoulder to narrow his eyes at her.

"Shouldn't you be sitting down?" he asked, then turned back to the can. As he latched the can opener onto the rim of the can, he added, "I can figure this out."

He could feel her judging presence behind him, watching him as he cut through the can.

"Want to go find something to watch?" he suggested, releasing the can to pry the lid off and throw it in the trash.

"Hmm...nope," she shot his idea down, smiling at him devilishly when he threw a mildly irritated look her way.

Jules watched as he opened and shut a few of the cabinet doors, looking for a bowl in which to serve the soup. They hadn't been dating for a long time, and he had only been to her house on a few occasions, so this was all still new territory for him. They were still getting to know each other in an exciting, secretive way, and she was beginning to like him more than she would admit.

She held back a sneeze and let her thoughts wander to one of the first dates they had been on, although she wasn't sure if it was exactly a _date_. At the time, she had been extremely opposed to letting these feelings cloud her judgement; dating a colleague meant she would have to give up her job. Nevertheless, as friends, they had driven to Lake Ontario after stopping for _Tim Hortons_ coffee; they had sat in the back of her jeep, clutching their warm cups, huddled in their jackets, watching the moon's reflection in the lake, listening to each other reminisce over their adolescence, and that's when she remembered—

"Tell me a story," Jules demanded. Sam halted in his quest for a bowl to raise an eyebrow at her request.

"A story?"

Jules nodded.

"Well, what kind of story?" he enquired, reaching up for a bowl from a cabinet overhead. He placed it on the counter by the can of soup and looked at Jules, who seemed to be deep in thought when suddenly, her face lit up.

"Tell me the story of how you got rejected by a girl for the first time," she requested, beaming up at him. Sam sighed and poured the soup in the bowl. He had mentioned it once before, but he hadn't gone into the details, only that he had been so drunk that he was surprised he had remembered it the day after, which had, of course, left her extremely curious.

He placed the bowl of soup in the microwave and set it for one minute before he walked over to Jules, leaning against the counter in front of her.

"Would it make you feel better?" he mock-asked.

Jules nodded her head very seriously and deadpanned, "Doctor prescribed it."

Sam chuckled while Jules remembered it really was time to take some medicine. She crossed the short distance between the wall and the counter where she had left her pills and filled a glass of water as she patiently awaited Sam's story.

"I mentioned that I was drunk, right?" he reaffirmed, waiting for Jules to nod before he continued. "Good, because I was drunk. I barely even remember what I said; my buddy was there to tell me again...and again...and again and again and again."

He looked back at the timer which indicated the soup would be ready in about thirty seconds; he looked to Jules to find her gazing at him with eager eyes as she popped a pill into her mouth and washed it down with a glass of water. His eyes fell to her throat, following the way it moved as she swallowed the water.

He _really_ wished she wasn't sick.

"My friend was throwing a party back in Ottawa, so I went with my graduating class," Sam went on, "I knew or had at least seen most of the people, but there were some older university students there, as well—"

The microwave interrupted his tale with its incessant beeps; he pushed himself off of the counter and went to retrieve the soup.

"I had done quite a few of shots with my friends; some were on a dare, some were for my enjoyment, but they ended, so I went to get some more drinks. There was a girl—no, woman by the table, reaching for some cans of beer. A _very_ leggy woman."

Sam held the bowl in front of her; Jules found a spoon in one of the drawers. She dipped it into the soup and tasted it gingerly.

"Is it okay? Is it warm enough?" Sam questioned. Jules looked up and smiled at him, nodding her head.

"Thank you, Sam," she responded earnestly, taking the bowl in her hands. She turned and carefully carried it over to the dining table.

When Sam sat down beside her, she asked, "You're not having any?"

Sam shook his head and continued with his story.

"Anyway, I caught her attention. She smiled at me and I smiled at her, and I leaned down and...and I told her I would take her to Funkytown."

Jules snorted and had a hard time keeping the soup in her mouth, but she managed to swallow it, coughing a couple of times. She rubbed her throat and regarded him incredulously. Sam averted his gaze down to the dark table and bit back a grin.

"I'll admit, it wasn't one of my best lines," he caved, "But she just laughed at me and went back to her friends, and I went on to find a petite redhead with whom I spent the night."

Sam smiled smugly and Jules rolled her eyes.

"I did see the other woman a week later, though, when I was sober; turns out she was a close friend of a friend's. We ended up dating for awhile, but I went on to become a soldier and she spent the next two years at Carleton University."

"So even when you lose, you don't lose?" Jules noted, arching an eyebrow. Sam chuckled and shrugged, reluctantly agreeing.

"Do you need anything else, Miss Callaghan?" he queried. Jules shook her head immediately; she was grateful of his help, but she was well enough to take care of herself. Unless he could clear her nasal passages.

"Well," she replied, "there is _one_ thing."

Sam looked as if he would get to his feet and run to the nearest drug store at her wish.

"Sam, I've _gotta move on_," Jules began, unable to conceal a wide grin. He immediately gave her a mild glare and sank back in the chair, unfazed when she asked, "_Won't you take me to Funkytown?_"

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_—Gotta make a move to a town that's right for me; town to keep me movin', keep me groovin' with some energy. :D_


End file.
